


Clean

by socialcsualty



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 17:21:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9833438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socialcsualty/pseuds/socialcsualty
Summary: Singer/songwriter Amber Bain once wrote: "From the movements you made, and the soft gaze you gave, you understood."





	

“I’m literally drinking out of a penis, and I’ve never been less turned on.” To his credit, he’s trying. The admittedly tall, dark and handsome guy crooning an Adele song at your soon-to-be-wed sister deserved at least an A for effort, but he was trying way too hard.

Then again, your party is the one wearing various feather boas and drinking from plastic dicks. So. 

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly and fans herself with her hand, making him falter and laugh. It’s the end of the song, so he just smiles and concludes with, “Derek Morgan, I’m here all night,” and winking. 

“Come on, he’s pretty,” your best friend sighs from beside you. 

“Yeah, and boy, does he know it.” 

She giggles. “Whatever, you’re no fun.” 

“Ignore him.” A blonde woman appears between you two, looking apologetic, although her otherwise genuine expression is somewhat skewed by the plastic babies dangling from her ears. “Derek gets a bit of a God complex when he’s drunk. I’m Penelope by the way.” She smiles brightly and extends her hand to your sister before also shaking yours. 

After exchanging pleasantries, Penelope offers to buy you both an “apology drink” and you both accept. After she hands you a shot, Derek comes up behind her.

“Making more friends, baby girl?” Penelope beams at him, introducing you two. Once he sees your sister’s Bride-to-Be sash, he apologizes profusely. “Who’s the lucky man?” he asks. Seeming genuinely curious and friendly, not predatory.

“Baby girl?” you ask, arching an eyebrow. “I’m assuming he’s not your boyfriend, since you seem more than amused at his attempt to romance my sister.” Penelope laughs, shaking her head.

“Oh no honey, Derek and I are just flirty friends. We work together, and he makes the job a little bit easier.”

“Oh, what do you do?” Penelope gestures to a group of about five people sitting in a booth across the bar in response.

“We all work in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. They’re profilers though. I am their technical analyst, otherwise known as The Oracle, Goddess of Knowledge, yada yada yada.” 

You laugh, taking stock of the group. There’s a pretty blonde woman laughing with a tall, skinny man who seems to be showing her a magic trick. There’s a serious looking man who’s almost all eyebrows talking with a jollier Italian one, as well as another pretty woman with dark hair and striking dark eyes. They all look like normal people, for the most part.

“Eyebrows over there’s the only one who looks like an FBI agent, but that’s probably just me stereotyping,” you say, laughing along with Penelope. 

“Would you like to meet some real-life FBI agents?” she asks, already tugging your hand without waiting for an answer. You glance back to see Derek and your sister still deep in conversation, and you no longer feel a small niggle of guilt while being swept away.

“My furry friends, meet (Y/N),” says Penelope, sweeping her arms dramatically. The blonde woman smiles, even prettier up close with her kind blue eyes.

“I’m Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me JJ.” 

“Emily Prentiss,” says the woman with dark hair, followed by Eyebrows.

“Aaron Hotchner, these guys just call me Hotch.”

“Dave Rossi, says the jollier man, his handshake warm and comforting. 

The skinny one waves, a simple quirk of his hand. You falter as your outstretched hand goes untouched. Emily rolls her eyes, turning expectantly towards him. 

“You know, the number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss.” 

“Right. . .” you say, trailing off awkwardly. JJ looks somewhat sympathetic and mostly amused. 

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid. He’s our resident genius.” 

“You’ve just experienced what we call ‘The Reid Effect.’ It happens to everyone,” says Dave, chuckling a little. 

“Reid has a mouth that moves and expels words too, you guys,” says Penelope, fluttering her hands exasperatedly. “I’m sure (Y/N) does not want to hear your description of Reid before they’re even properly acquainted.” Spencer smiles gratefully at Penelope.

“Hi, sorry, you can just call me Spencer. It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

“Likewise,” you say, smiling at the seemingly perpetually nervous man. Nervous, but kind of adorable. 

Your introductions are interrupted by a very familiar, very drunk voice slurring over the karoke speakers. 

“This is my new friend Derek, and this is our rendition of Hoedown Throwdown!” 

You are bewildered as to how exactly the FBI agent knows the Miley Cyrus song, but him and your sister manage to incorporate the dance into their drunken attempt to stay in tune. By the end of the song, you and Derek’s coworkers are in stitches, with Hotch having the sense to record the whole debacle. 

“Good god, I am never going to let him hear the end of this,” says Emily, having finally regained enough composure to speak. 

“Oh there will be pictures posted all around the bullpen come Monday, and that’s a promise,” says Penelope, still wiping away her tears.

Derek saunters over, your sister following. After good-naturedly accepting everyone’s taunts, he introduces your sister to everyone else, although she’s too intoxicated to notice Spencer’s awkwardness.

As the night wears on, you eventually have Penelope and JJ's numbers programmed into your phone, and have started matching them shot for shot. 

Which is a terrible idea, because JJ can hold her alcohol like no one you have ever seen. But fuck it, it's a bachelorette party, and these people are nice, and being the maid of honor is stressful. 

It’s about 3 AM when Hotch begins to call Ubers for his colleagues, and he reminds you of a dad when he herds his drunken charges into their respective cars. You’re pleasantly surprised when he also calls two cars for your whole party, and hands you his card, “in case you need anything.” As you climb into the car and give the address of your party’s hotel to the driver, you catch a glimpse of Spencer attempting to shove a belligerent Derek into one of the Ubers, and you smile.

He hadn’t been vocal all night, just occasionally sipping on the same beer and catching Emily when she had stumbled over Dave’s large feet. He was more of an observer than a participant, which left you wondering exactly what made Dr. Spencer Reid tick.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think :)


End file.
